


Ninna nanna

by problematicuser69



Series: Spardacest week [2]
Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Character Study, Cuddling & Snuggling, Gen, I have written this for the Spardacest Week, M/M, Spardacast Week, but it's not that ship, so idk interpret the relationship and you'd like
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-30
Updated: 2019-04-30
Packaged: 2020-02-10 13:27:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18661327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/problematicuser69/pseuds/problematicuser69
Summary: In the middle of the night, Vergil seeks out Dante.





	Ninna nanna

**Author's Note:**

> Does this count as big spoon/little spoon? Also yay, first not nsfw fic I publish!
> 
> You can also find me on twitter @dmcfuckytimes

Vergil wakes up with a gasp, a sensation of panic taking over his whole being. He raises his back, looking around for the first sign of an enemy, but his room is in perfect order and there’s nobody in there beside him.

Before he can even remind himself that he should breathe he reaches for Yamato, keeping it close in his hands; he rests his forehead against the handle, closing his eyes and finally taking a deep breath, but his hands are still shaky. He tries to focus on the cold metal of the sword, on its essence, clinging onto it like he did who knows how many times already: since the tragedy, Yamato was all he ever had, that and his mother’s amulet, but he had lost that years ago. It was almost funny too see such a small child hugging that way too long sword to his chest like it meant the world to him – it did – if only for the expression of pure devastation on his face.

Yamato was a reminder that, even if he was alone, he could at least count on his strength, on the last gift father had bestowed him.

 

But now he isn’t alone anymore…

 

 

It takes him too much effort than he’s willing to admit to let go of the Yamato, putting it back beside the bed, leaning against the wall.

He never leaves it too far; one can never know what will happen next and always keeping his weapon in reach has been a habit that Vergil has acquired a long time ago, a habit that he still hasn’t managed to lose completely, but he’s working on it. He knows that it’s not good to always be on edge, but he simply can’t help it: he’s lived his entire life like this, how can he change in so little time?

Still, he managed to put it back and, as he leaves the room, he looks back only once. His hand feels empty without Yamato, but he’s able to close the door behind him without going back for it.

Now he’s going down the stairs, and as silent as his steps are, they are also quick, because he knows that if he doesn’t go down now he’ll just rethink this and go back to his room, cradle Yamato with him and spend the rest of the night feeling empty; it’s always like this, but for once, he wants to see if he can make this better.

 

He thought he could never be hurt, that he had managed to distance himself from his human side enough that this feelings could never touch him, but letting himself fall in the Underworld changed this. He felt, oh, if he felt, and it hurt so much. He couldn’t withstand it.

He won’t lie, being a full demon felt good; he could stop worrying about feelings as they couldn’t make him weak anymore, but after merging back with his other part, he’s back at the beginning and he has no idea how to deal with this, or at least not in a way that would just begin the cycle of killings and duels again, and if he could really be honest for a moment… he’s grown tired of all of this: all his life he had to fight tooth and nail to see the next day, to get stronger, to gain more power, to find a way not to be hurt anymore. Maybe it’s a sign he’s getting older – and he has gotten older, even when he was barely conscious of it – but the idea of having to constantly fight day after day – and yes, that counts even duelling with his brother or even his recently discovered son – only brings a shadow to his eyes; this doesn’t mean he won’t do it if he has to, but now more than ever he feels the need of something, a word that he has dreaded since he was a child: a _vacation_.

He could travel around, see the world; not that he hasn’t done that already – not when he was always on the run – but it would be nice doing that without the constant threat of being found out by demons who want to kill him just because he exists.

 

He’s still having these thoughts when he goes down the last step, his legs automatically bringing him to where he wants to go without the need of his brain to actually direct them, which is nice because he feels so detached from reality to believe he could guide is body in any satisfying way.

 

He knows by the light of the TV that his brother is awake, and in fact here he is, sitting on the couch, his body relax and his expression happy – if not a bit tired as well.

It’s such a mundane image that it almost makes Vergil flee on the spot, but Vergil doesn’t retreat from anything, _ever_.

If Dante has noticed him – probably not because he hasn’t turned his eyes away from the TV not even once and Vergil knows he hasn’t made any noise to announce his presence – he gives no sign of that, but it doesn’t matter: he’ll notice pretty soon.

 

Vergil’s body moves again on its own, its steps quick as he reaches the couch, gracelessly flopping against it – a rather uncharacteristic move from his part.

Dante must be certainly surprised to see his brother huddled against him, his head resting on his twin’s shoulder and his arms around his knees, as if he wants to appear smaller than he is.

Vergil can clearly feel how Dante tenses for a moment – maybe he’s thinking this is a trick of some sort – but his brother soon relaxes again, and all Vergil can feel is relief; he’ll never admit it, but the fact that he wasn’t sent away alone is making him feel better already.

 

Dante turns his head towards him and Vergil knows he’s about to say something, so he’s quick to shut him up before any word can leave his mouth.

“ _Don’t ask_ ”, he mutters and thankfully, for once, Dante listens. There’s something in his gaze however, a kind of softness that Vergil has only recently noticed in them, and he thinks he knows the cause too: even Dante is tired, tired of fighting, tired of losing people, tired of this destiny, of his heritage. Maybe this is why he just nods, turning his face to the TV again, allowing Vergil to remain there.

 

He needs contact, he needs warmth, he needs _this_.

 

He does, and yet he can’t bring himself to say it; some vestiges of pride are still latched onto him, stopping him from showing too much vulnerability – “for what?” one may ask, after all Dante has already seen him at his worst.

Sometimes he can only envy how much his brother wears his heart on his sleeve, but he knows – he _knows_ – that as much as Dante likes to act like he’s the more honest of the two, he’s a great liar; as if Vergil doesn’t notice the bags under his eyes, as if he doesn’t notice the way he looks at him sometimes – like this is all his fault – and the melancholic gaze he has when his eyes fall on mother’s picture, the one he keeps on the Devil May Cry’s office desk.

Dante does not shy away from asking for hugs or contact in general – he’s a pretty handsy person, and not just with Vergil – but his twin knows he craves something even deeper than that, something that he’s too afraid to reach for – as Vergil is.

 

This is the closest they’ll ever get to it.

 

Vergil has closed his eyes and sleep has almost taken over when he feels a arm around his shoulders, drawing him a bit closer. The touch is warm, and even in the haziness of his mind, Vergil can feel it with such clarity that it almost feels like he’s wide awake.

And he lets himself be manoeuvred as the other wants, and actually he tightens an arm around Dante waist, adjusting his position of the couch so that he’s more comfortable.

 

He likes feeling Dante so close, surrounding him; he likes to bask in his warmth and just stays there, a small moment of weakness that he’ll allow himself only in presence of his twin and his twin only, knowing that he won’t say anything about it – he would’ve years ago, when he was young and foolish, or at least more foolish than he is now, but if anything at the present day he can only be glad Vergil isn’t keeping any fronts with him, as being able to see the real Vergil is the true treasure for him.

 

Vergil doesn’t know if the feeling of lips on his forehead comes from his dreams of if it’s real, but he relishes it nonetheless, cuddling closer to the source of it, a weak sound escaping his throat, so weak that Dante almost doesn’t hear it, but he does and he smiles, looking down at Vergil.

He’s beginning to feel sleepy as well but he knows that if he moves he’ll ruin this moment, and who knows when – not if, _when_ – something like this will happen again. Vergil must be asleep, so Dante could easily carry him upstairs, but what if he accidentally wakes him up? That would be no good.

 

He shakes his head at Vergil, as if this is all his fault and technically it is but that’s beside the point. He’s acting like he doesn’t enjoy this, he doesn’t enjoy Vergil finally not being so emotionally distant anymore, he doesn’t enjoy Vergil seeking him, he doesn’t enjoy having him this close.

He reaches for the TV remote and turns the device off – better not risk falling asleep with the TV still on or the electric bill is going to be too painful this time around.

Only then he allows himself to close his eyes, and he can help but to smile at the feeling of his twin all huddled against him. Now that there is no more noise coming from the TV, he can hear his faint breathing, a sign that he’s definitely fallen asleep, and he lets that sound guide him on the same path as sleep takes over for him as well.

He knows he’ll be sore as hell the next day and he’s going to regret everything that happened in his life – which might seem a tad too dramatic, but back pains are so bad. Still, he knows that it’s worth it, and the fact that Vergil’s beginning to seek him out more often is the proof of that.

 

It’s with that last thought that Dante falls asleep, but not before putting his other arm around Vergil too, keeping him in a tight hug and even in his sleep, he doesn’t let go not even for a moment.


End file.
